Struan 1965 - Adm.monash.edu.au

were dismissed. Feeling unwanted they returned to the mission station, bringingwith them the vice and immorality of the cattle stations. They could not be acceptedby either society again.I tried hard to think of the time before I left; but my education had taught meto be critical. It had made me a foreigner to my people. No-one on the stationwanted different conditions; their experiences with whites had only been unhappyones, Talking and persuading had no effect on them. My education had beenuseless.Impulsively I left the mission station and drove for many miles, when I cameto the hometown of a former leader of the mission station, the Reverend ClarkeSilverwood. That night at his home I was able to rid all the bitterness anddisappointment from my system. My audience had been most sympathetic..After much thought, I decided to become a lay preacher and during thesucceeding months everything went as I had once dreamed it would. I had friendship,hospitality, company and a rewarding occupation. My worries aboutassimilation seemed over at last. ....How wrong I had been. The old bitterness and despair suddenly returned in thisone incident at the hospital. I now came to the bitter realisation that despite whatpeople such as Reverend Silverwood did for us, there would always be those whothought of us as "black" and "dirty" and forced their children to have similarattitudes and practice cruel discrimination such as that I had just observed.I felt sick, sick inside, stumblingalong the dusty road, I shook myweary head and tried to think clearly;but my mind was troubled and confused.I Iifted my head and saw beforeme a high hill. A sudden impulsemade me climb that hill and stand ontop of it. All round in the valleysbelow were small townships. HereI was, viewing the world from adistance. It was a wh ite world awestern world. As I moved my eyesaround each town, a wall seemed torise in front of it, preventing my entry.I am still standing on this hill. I,the representative of my people,isolated, unable to enter these towns.Whose fault is it that I am standinghere; my peoples' or the whitesocieties' in those towns? Perhaps itis no-one's fault, perhaps it was meantthis way. Shakespeare once wroteabout the world being a stage andeach having his part to play. I am leftwondering-what is my part?49